


Swan Boat

by llyn



Category: Digimon - All Media Types
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-25
Updated: 2015-11-25
Packaged: 2018-05-03 07:30:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,985
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5282144
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/llyn/pseuds/llyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Yamato goes down with the ship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Swan Boat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [eternitysky](https://archiveofourown.org/users/eternitysky/gifts).



> Digimon is not my property, and this work is not for profit.

**I.**

* * *

They set up camp near the ferris wheel as the sky turned from nursery blue to bubble gum pink. By Koushiro’s count, they’d been trapped in the Digital World for a month. Which meant, if time was still synchronized between the worlds, that Taichi’d missed tryouts for J. League, all the plants in his apartment were dead, and he probably owed thousands, millions, trillions to the bank in overdraft fees. He was fucked, but found he didn’t mind so much, watching Yamato languorously comb the tangles from his hair with slender fingers. Yamato caught him watching, looking up from under his lashes, but Taichi didn’t look away. Yamato didn’t either. They stared at each other as digital daylight faded.

The sky turned from bubble gum pink to royal purple. The moon rose, full and close. Taichi said he wanted to look around, in case of monsters, and disappeared into the darkness, trailing Agumon. Their laughter drifted back to camp on a gentle breeze long after they were gone.

While the others snuggled in for the night, Yamato sat a ways off, playing harmonica soft as a dream. When Taichi returned, edging around the light of the campfire to where Yamato sat, the blond took the harp from his lips.

“I found your boat,” Taichi said.

“My boat?” Yamato asked, voice low and teasing, “What boat?”

Taichi looked down at his sneakers, shifting his feet to keep from staring at his best friend’s mouth, “Your swan boat.”

“Oh,” Yamato said. He stuck his tongue in his cheek, thinking.

Taichi wished he wouldn’t think like that. He shuffled his feet some more, “We should go check it out,” he said, “Make sure it’s safe.”

“Yeah,” Yamato said, unfolding long legs and tucking his harmonica into his back pocket, “We should.” 

“And where are you two going?” Takeru asked as they passed by. He sat near the fire, playing cards with Hikari with the group’s slightly singed, somewhat water-stained, but miraculously complete deck.  

“To check on Yama’s swan boat,” Taichi said, very casually, “Make sure it’s safe.”

“From what?” Takeru asked. Hikari nudged him with her foot.

Yamato jumped in, “To make sure it’s, you know, sea-worthy.”

“Sea-worthy,” Takeru said.

Taichi nodded vigorously, “Strategically, we made need it later. It’s a very strategic, um…”

“Boat,” Yamato finished for him, “I should know,” he drew himself up to full height, “I’m her captain.” With a light touch to Yamato’s back, Taichi started to walk off.

“Well then, aye aye,” Takeru said, with a jaunty salute.

“At ease,” Yamato said, saluting him back. Then he slipped away into the bright lights of the empty theme park, after Taichi.

Takeru rolled his eyes so hard they got stuck that way, and it took a very giggly Hikari four tries to shake them loose.

* * *

**II.**

* * *

“Check it out,” Yamato scrabbled after something at the bottom of the swan boat, coming up with tub of hair gel, “I must’ve pitched it here. They don’t make this anymore.”

“Littering the Digital World,” Taichi scolded, leaning back to put his feet up and his hands behind his head. The overloaded swan boat rocked with even their smallest movements, sending rippling waves back to the shore where their Digimon napped,  “Such a bad kid.”

Yamato hummed in agreement as he unscrewed the lid, “The baddest.” He inhaled deeply, then, “Oh, _fuck_ ,” the force of memory pressed him back into his seat, eyes shut, “It’s like I’m twelve.”

“Gimme,” Taichi dropped his feet to lean across and pry the tub from Yamato’s fingers. He brought it to his nose.

Yamato cracked an eye to watch. The neon lights of the park didn’t reach this far out on the lake, but it was easy to see by the light of the moon.

“Shit,” Taichi said, eyes falling shut like Yamato’s, “Makes me want to punch you in the face.”

“No, it doesn’t,” Yamato laughed.

“Does too,” Taichi said, but Yamato could see the flush creeping up his neck.

“Tell the truth, Taichi,” he teased, “What does it _really_ make you want to do?”

“Tell the truth?” Taichi asked, “The truth is that it _really_ makes me want,” Taichi reached over to tup Yamato’s chin up, “to punch you right in your dumb face.”

Yamato laughed. The swan boat bobbed. “Well you can’t,” he said, imperious, “It’s worth too much, now. Got to keep it lookin’ good.”

“Yeah. I know,” Taichi said, deflating, “I’ve heard." 

“So that must be why you stare at me.”

“Yep,” Taichi leaned back again with a careless air, letting himself look at Yamato in the moonlight. So pale. So beautiful. Sometimes it was hard, pretending not to notice. “I’m trying to figure out how much your lunatic fans would pay me for your eyebrow hair, you know, if I shaved one off in your sleep.”

Yamato laughed again, eyes crescents. He’d been laughing at all of Taichi’s jokes lately. There was grit under his nails and mud on his boots. He rode a wolf and slept on the ground. The Digital World had scraped off the magazine gloss of his life. Taichi found it all too good to be true, and pinched himself often.

“Why do _you_ stare at _me_?” Taichi asked, suddenly. Yamato stopped laughing. “That’s the real question,” he held Yamato’s gaze, “‘Cause last I checked if _Yamato_ gets boyfriend Japan will crack in half.”

Yamato looked out across the water and sighed. “Can’t break their hearts,” he said dully, a sulking kid reciting a sour lesson.

“Bullshit,” Taichi said.

“What about you?” Yamato shot back, “Last _I_ checked the great Yagami’s got a boyfriend back in Odaiba that he brings to all my parties. Which is _weird_ ,” he said, tilting his head, “‘cause no matter how far apart we fall asleep, I always wake up with your morning breath in my face.” 

“I _told_ you,” Taichi said, feeling the flush on his neck creeping further up, “I’m trying to steal an eyebrow. You could push me away, if you hate it so much.”

They’d woken up in a tangle that morning, untangling without a word, avoiding each other’s eyes, as if it hadn’t happened again. As if Taichi couldn’t still feel the tickle of Yamato’s lips below his ear or Yamato the squeeze of Taichi’s arm drawn tight and possessive around his waist. Mimi’d been pretending to do her daily yoga a few feet away, smirking to herself in warrior pose.

“No, I—” Yamato’s eyes trailed helplessly over the curve of Taichi’s lips, his brown arms left exposed by his tank top, his chest, his legs, his dark eyes, “I mean, it’d be crazy, kicking you out of bed.”

“You don’t have a bed,” Taichi said, smirking.

“My patch of dirt then. It’d be, um,” realizing he’d been caught, Yamato looked everywhere but Taichi now, pinking, “stupid.”

“Why’d it be stupid?”

“Just shut up.”

Taichi smiled at him cheesily until Yamato said, “Ugh.”

“So you’re saying you still want to snuggle, even though I have a boyfriend?”

“It’s not snuggling,” Yamato said, nose crinkling, “And your boyfriend’s an ass. He’s not a real blond, either. You know that, right?”

“Yeah, Yama,” Taichi fought back an indulgent grin, “I know.”

Yamato crossed his arms over his chest, “I hate him.”

“I know,” Taichi said again, “That’s why I date him.”

“Well, that’s…” Yamato’s mouth opened and closed as he searched for an expression of disapproval. 

“I want you,” Taichi said.

Yamato bit his lip, looking down at the floor. As much as Taichi wanted to touch him, he waited. The blue eyes flickered up at him, uncertain, “We’re supposed to be friends.”

Taichi shrugged, “Oops.”

Yamato hugged himself. He mumbled something.

“What was that?” Taichi asked.

“I said fine,” Yamato said.

“Fine what?”

“ _Fine_. Like, fine. That’s fine. Whatever. You know,” Yamato shrugged a slim shoulder, but his voice was shy as he said, “Okay.”

“Fine. Whatever. Okay,” Taichi echoed, with a blissful sigh, “Who doesn’t dream of hearing those words?” But the truth was Taichi’s heart was pounding.

“Shut up before I change my mind.”

“Well if you want me _so_ much, you should kiss me,” Taichi said, “Stupid.”

“Bossy,” Yamato scolded, then leaned over to press his lips to Taichi’s. His lips were chapped and his teeth sharp. He nipped at Taichi, bit his bottom lip and tugged, then laughed when they finally broke away to breathe.

“Come here, you fucking tease,” Taichi said, impatiently tugging Yamato half onto his lap. The boat listed dangerously to the side.

“I think,” Yamato said, wriggling, “This boat’s too small for us, Taichi.”

“This whole world’s too small for us,” Taichi said.

Yamato snorted, but it was true. This wasn’t their first time, as cute kids in candy colored clothes, or their second time—still cute, still kids—or even their third time when they’d made a teenaged mess of everything. No, this was their fourth time trapped together in the Digital World. Koushiro was nineteen, they were twenty, Jyou was twenty-one. They were too big and too old. But, Taichi figured, as Yamato’s hands twisted in his hair and their lips met again, this might be their last chance to right some wrongs, do what had been left undone. He tried and failed miserably to yank Yamato’s shirt over his head, rocking the boat worse than ever.

“We’ll tip!” Yamato said, batting Taichi’s hands away.

“Don’t care,” Taichi said, then licked across his Adam’s apple, hands dipping into the back of Yamato’s jeans to squeeze his ass. Yamato had a way of squirming that made Taichi want to pin him down. But too soon he slipped free, sliding from Taichi’s lap onto the boat’s floor.  

“What are you up to?” Taichi asked breathlessly, as the boat swayed, “Looking for more hair gel?”

“No,” Yamato said, kneeling between Taichi’s knees.

“Gonna show me if _Yamato_ knows how to suck dick?”

“What do you think?” Yamato said, smirking up as he tugged Taichi’s shorts down. 

“Better not be any good at it,” Taichi said, transfixed as Yamato leaned in to take Taichi’s dick in his hand and taste it for the first time, “Or I’ll have to—ah!—kill anyone who touched you.”

“Kill them with what?” Yamato asked, pulling away for a moment before mouthing the length of his dick again, letting it slide wetly over his cheeks as he moved up and down.

“T-terra force,” Taichi said, toes curling.

Yamato snickered. He took Taichi in his mouth and sucked, cheeks hollowing.

“Fuck,” Taichi said, and threaded his fingers in Yamato’s hair, pulling it back, “Never seen anything this hot.”

“You talk too much,” Yamato said.

“Yama,” Taichi said, dreamily.

Yamato pulled away to glare, but the effect was ruined by the wet glisten of his lips in the bright moonlight.

“Don’t stop,” Taichi said, reaching out to brush the blond fringe from his eyes, “I’ll be good.” And he was, mostly, until Yamato moved lower, nose and breath teasing his balls. “Fuck,” Taichi banged his head against the back of the boat, “I’ll come if you don’t stop,” he whined.

“Told me not to stop,” Yamato said, smug, his hot breath alone nearly doing Taichi in, but he pulled away with one last, long lick up his dick and started to rise. The boat listed again. Taichi snatched him back greedily, his hand already working inside Yamato’s jeans. Yamato’s fingers laced through his as he arched back to find Taichi’s lips, slipping off the side of his lap as they kissed.

“Taichi,” Yamato said, voice slow with lust, “I—”

That’s when the swan boat capsized.

In the infinite second it took for the boat to tip, Yamato’s fingers slipped free of Taichi’s. Then all the world was cold and black.

* * *

**III.**

* * *

Taichi surfaced, flailing wildly, until he realized his feet could touch the lake’s bottom. He laughed. A few feet away the swan’s tail poked undignified out from the water, which made him laugh harder. They really had outgrown this world. The full moon lit the lake’s calm surface all around him, and Taichi’s laughter died in his throat.

“Yama?” he called. Then, “Yamato?”

Suddenly, from the shore where they’d left the Digimon, a great blue light shone out like a second moon, and Taichi—one hand shielding his eyes—felt his heart return to its frightened pace. Yamato was in trouble. Yamato was drowning. But before Garurumon could set a paw in the water, Taichi dove, feeling blindly along the muddy lake bottom.

Dive after dive, he couldn’t find a trace of him in that blackness, not a hard-soled boot, not the sharp point of a fang necklace, not the brush of well-worn denim. He surfaced again, lungs screaming, just long enough to see an orange sunburst in answer to his towering panic, then dove.

Beneath the black water he circled the swan boat, feeling everywhere, until—finally—his hands tangled in soft tendrils, reaching up to him like seaweed from under the swan’s submerged head. Yamato was there, pushed into the mud beneath his boat, and his hands—his dexterous, pretty hands that could cook a meal or play a song or throw a punch—didn’t grasp at Taichi, but floated instead, limp and lifeless beside him. 

Taichi shot to the surface, sputtering—shouting for Greymon’s help, for Garurumon to find Jyou. Greymon splashed out to him, plucking the boat from the water easy as an old shell. Taichi dove a final time to pull Yamato from the mud’s suction, planting his feet and lifting him to the water’s churning surface.

Spread out on the shore under the cheerful, neon lights of the amusement park, Yamato looked dead. Taichi found his sternum just like Jyou had taught them and, sorry-not-sorry, forced all his weight down until it nearly cracked beneath the pressure of Taichi’s will to bring Yamato back to life. 

“I love you,” Taichi said, instead of keeping count, “I love you,” in time with each press, “Fuck, I love you, Yama. _Please_ ,” press, “don’t leave me,” press, “don’t leave me,” press, “I love you,” press, “I love you,” then Yamato choked, puking up water. 

Taichi helped him roll on his side and sat against his back to keep him there, feeling each heave of Yamato’s body like a punch to his gut. After an interminable minute, Jyou arrived on Garurumon’s back, along with the rest of the crew, unable to sit out such excitement. Jyou took over, helping Yamato sit up and checking him over with steady hands. Taichi collapsed in his place, staring up at the too big, too close moon and willing his heart to slow down. But it wouldn’t.

If anything his heart worked faster than ever as his mind caught up to his body. Yamato had been breaking his heart since they met, so very long ago, and as cool as he’d played it in the swan boat—a far cry from the first time he’d asked Yamato out and was subjected to the frown and the _I don’t…I can’t…I’m sorry, Taichi_ —he’d finally, incredibly got his hands on the blond. And then, just like that, he’d nearly lost him for good.

“Taichi?” Jyou asked, had been asking, his face hovering over, “You okay?”

“Yeah,” Taichi said, not believing himself for a moment, “I’m fine.”

“You saved him,” Jyou offered, “You did great.”

But Taichi knew this wasn’t true, either, once he let his head loll to the side to see Yamato, soaked and shaking inside the fierce curve of Garurumon’s paw. Yamato looked back at Taichi with a hunted expression. Fear. Taichi’s mind helpfully chose that moment to relive the scene on the shore moments before, as he’d declared his desperate love for his untouchable best friend.

He opened his mouth to say something, to keep things between them light, to let Yamato know he’d only meant he loved him like he loved Jyou, or Takeru, or any of his friends, even if it would be an outrageous lie—but Yamato looked away, as if scared of what might come out of Taichi’s mouth next. He began, with trembling fingers, to comb out the tangles in his hair. Taichi studied his profile hopelessly. So pale. So beautiful.        

It was all too much. Taichi’s eyes welled, but he wouldn’t let tears fall. Hikari came then, with her sibling’s intuition, to coax him off the ground and away from the others, from the sickening lights of the park, to drier, darker land. She settled him in a patch of soft grass. Agumon, devolved and similarly demotivated, curled up by his head after a quick, weak pepper-breath for the benefit of Taichi’s dripping clothes.

Sleep came merciful and swift the night he’d found Yama, lost him, found him, and lost him again.

* * *

**IV.**

* * *

Taichi woke as dawn broke fairy tale pink over the lake. Yamato’s face was pressed close to his, nose tickling his sideburn, hand warm beneath his shirt, his long legs tangled with Taichi’s. “Yama?” Taichi asked, not trusting his senses.

Wincing with the effort, Yamato pushed himself up on an elbow and said, “Hey,” casual as if they had just passed in the street.

Taichi swallowed back a thousand words before he came up with, “Hey,” then a million more before settling on, “How do you feel?”

Yamato laughed, grimaced, smirked, “Like I drowned and you broke my ribs. 

“Well,” Taichi said, eyes roving Yamato’s drawn face, the purple beneath his eyes, not daring to hope, “Yeah. I mean, that’s accurate.”

For a moment, neither spoke. Then Taichi said, “I’m sorry.”

“Thank you,” Yamato said, at the same time.

They blinked at each other.

“That’s okay,” Yamato said.

“You’re welcome,” Taichi said, at the same time, again.

They shared a long, drowsy look that said it all, really. Then Yamato settled down again, gingerly, in the crook of Taichi’s arm.  


End file.
